This provides a space for women to tell their stories in their own words. I do not mean to offend anyone with my raw testimony. I feel like I need to shout it out to the world in order to heal one day, so get ready to feel the anxiety, the critique.
I am writing this to make my thoughts clear to myself, and to someone else like me who feels completely alone in this. I am a prostitute. I have been a prostitute since I was underage. I do not want to belittle their experiences, part of it may be true for them, but after many years of hearing from them — hearing how my negative experiences in prostitution are all my own fault and should not be spoken of, I have started to question their truth as well, not just my own truth.
I was also one of those who told all the clients how lovely it is to see them, how happy I am to work with them, how they are my favourite clients. I really tried to make myself believe it too. The truth is, of course, I was very happy to see their money, and I was also very happy to see them leave me alone after our sessions. I had a great time! Welcome back! But I will never get out of this miserable job, so I must try to keep my regulars happy to avoid the risks that come with meeting new clients.
I was often told that I was wholeheartedly involved with my clients in our sessions. That my pleasure was not fake, that I really seemed to love sex. What sex? I have no memories of the sex part at all, they are all supressed under the well-practiced performance. The performance that helped me survive in this world since I was a kid.
The clients wondered if there were actually some real, hot feelings between us. Many messages from them, thanking me for the experience. And I never even remembered what had happened. I felt like a robot every day. But seems that I really was a good actress. I would just sit on my bed afterwards, looking at the money, focusing on it, counting my savings every day to keep myself motivated, and counting how much more I would have to save to retire.
